


The First Time

by Loveless81



Category: Angelus Mortis, Quietus - Fandom, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Angelus Mortis - Freeform, F/M, First Time, quietus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveless81/pseuds/Loveless81
Summary: Slayte, after serving in the underworld for 800 years, escapes to the surface to try and give her life meaning. There she finds Levi Ackerman, the owner of the Wings of Freedom Tea Shop.This is a oneshot of the Quietus spinoff Angelus Mortis. An exploration of Levi and Slayte's first time together. Don't ask me why I wrote this. Your guess is as good as mine. On that note, this may be a spinoff of a spinoff of a spinoff, but please give Quietus a read! It's a fantastic work of fanfiction! And the inspired spinoff Angelus Mortis is fantastic as well. That being said, here you go.
Relationships: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	The First Time

** The First Time **

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

Her eyes shifted from the credits playing on the television screen in front of them, to look at him, wide-eyed, wondering if she had heard him correctly. She clutched her half-empty cup of tea, her mind whirring, but catching on nothing, came up blank.

Levi Ackerman sat comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, an arm outstretched over the backrest, his hand resting just next to her shoulder. He could, at any moment, have reached out to touch her, if he so desired, but he didn’t. She, too, had kept her distance, curled up with her tea on the opposite end of the loveseat, more out of habit than because she had put any conscious thought to it.

Had two months passed since they had casually decided they were in a relationship? Very little had changed in that time. She counted the differences, noting them with fascination, as they came and went. The way his hand, warm and comfortable, would graze her hip as he pushed past her behind the counter, resting there all too briefly, leaving an odd emptiness in its wake. The way he looked at her expressionlessly when she plucked the courage to hold his hand as they walked the town roads, nodding slightly, as if acknowledging that that was all right. When she curled her fingers through his, he glanced at their intertwined hands with mild curiosity before turning his gaze away and squeezing her hand back, ever so slightly. These little touches, these small differences, meant everything to her.

Levi was not one for labels, nor did he concern himself with milestones. They were as they had always been, just a little more. The kiss they had shared on this very sofa after agreeing that they were no longer just friends still made her heart race whenever she thought about it. There had been more kisses, of course. After closing hours, in the dim light of the little kitchen, when he came up behind her and she couldn’t turn to touch him as her hands were covered with soapy suds. In the storeroom, in a lull between customers, her back pressed up against the shelves of tea reaching up to the ceiling. The pleasant smells of herbs and tea and Levi mingling to deliver her into her own ten square feet of Elysium. In between sips of their first cup of tea in the morning, in between the credits of the last movie of the weekend, in her daydreams, in her memories, and in her sleep.

But wasn’t there something more? They had never bothered to define their new relationship, satisfied to leave the bounds of friendship behind without confining themselves to new categories. She may only be a nymph, awkward und unlearned in the ways of the mortal world, but she knew enough to know that there must be something that followed the electrifying sensation that burned through her skin when his hand brushed past her side. She had seen it in movies, heard talk enough of the experience, but when it came to Levi, she never knew what he was thinking, and was content to let him take the lead on whatever it was, they were.

He turned towards her, his chin angled slightly, observing her down the length of his aristocratic nose through those stormy grey eyes that set fireworks alight in her pulse. _Do you want to sleep with me?_ He had said. Her mind struggled to accept that he had spoken those words. This was that something more.

Before she could force her mind to produce something other than that blank, mindless stare she had fixed on him, Levi was already rising to his feet, picking up their teacups from the table as he did so.

“It’s late, why go all the way upstairs when there’s a perfectly fine bed here?” he asked, crossing over to the kitchen and placing the teacups with characteristic care in the dishwasher. He turned partway, meeting her gaze over his shoulder, “Unless you don’t want to?”

She pulled herself together and stood up hastily, “That’s fine. Good idea.” She hoped she didn’t sound too eager as she watched him turn his back towards her again, the beeping of the dishwasher echoing in the empty kitchen as he turned it on. From this angle she could clearly see the muscular lines of his back, the set of his broad shoulders and counted herself lucky that she was the one standing here in this deserted kitchen with him in the middle of the night.

“Alright,” he muttered, turning to leave the kitchen as he switched off the lights.

He nodded towards the hallway, leading the way to his own bedroom here on the lower floor and she followed close behind, nervous beyond expression. She also felt a vague sense of curiosity. In the two years since coming to live here, she had never seen Levi’s bedroom.

He came to a stop, his hand resting on the door handle, but he did not open it. Angling his face towards her with a mildly irritated expression, as if already annoyed by the next words to leave his mouth, he said, “I’m going to ask. Because it’s you, and I can never be too sure with you. You do know I didn’t mean actually sleeping, right?”

A humiliated blush crept over her cheeks. Trust Levi to spell it out unnecessarily. She nodded, hoping that was answer enough. Levi let go of the door handle, turning around to lean against the closed door with crossed arms. “If you can’t even talk about it, maybe it’s too early,” he decided, his expression dismissive.

She met his eye with only a fraction of the frustration she was feeling. Why did he have to make this so difficult? Without answering him, she stepped forward, turning the door handle so that Levi stumbled backwards into his room. “I’m not an idiot, Levi,” she muttered indignantly.

He looked unimpressed. “Hope floats,” he drawled, walking further into his room and letting her pass.

She closed the door behind her and followed him in, taking in the neat and tidy room that mirrored its owner. Decorated decently with neutral tones of green and white, the sparse furnishings were a deep mahogany color, and a nearby bookshelf was lined with thick volumes that looked well-read. Obviously, there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.

She felt him come up behind her, sliding his warm hands up her arms and over her shoulders before coming to rest there. Relieved that he could not see her expression, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch before catching herself and turning around instead. His dark eyes burned with an emotion she could not place, and she observed him curiously.

His lips were set in a resigned expression that belied the hunger in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he muttered with a characteristic frown as he gently reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not saying you don’t have that option, but… it would be a pain to stop halfway.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked, meeting his eyes curiously, genuinely not understanding why he felt she would want to stop… whatever it was that was about to happen. She tried not to concentrate on the sensation of his fingers against her ear, since it set butterflies alight in her stomach and she felt she needed a clear head.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, searching her eyes for a confirmation she could not possibly give, for lack of experience. “But you might.”

“I won’t,” she promised, reaching up to take a hold of the hand at her ear, stilling its distracting movements. She met his eyes sincerely, reassuringly. He sighed as he leaned in towards her, claiming her lips in one smooth movement. She wanted to watch his expression. His closed eyes veiled his emotions from her, but the gentle way he brushed his lips against hers once, twice, almost teasingly, before taking her mouth in the way she hoped he would, spoke volumes on what she meant to him.

The hand she still clutched like a lifeline took a firm hold of her face, sliding back to dig into her hair as his other hand snaked up her hip before gripping her waist possessively, pulling her into him. Her eyes fluttered closed as the overwhelming sensations his proximity induced in her made her lightheaded. His touch was like a terrible addiction she could never have enough of.

Touch.

It was like a little miracle of its own. She had seen it in the Underworld between parents and children, like Nyx and her sons. Between lovers, hidden in the groves or boldly caressing one another in the moonflower field. Between friends, casual as Thanatos and Hypnos resting an arm on the other’s shoulders. But Slayte had never had what one would call a parent to embrace her lovingly, nor had she known a lover in her 800 years, and being respectful of her friends had not ever attempted to bridge the distance that society ordained. There was a shell, wasn’t there? Preventing the warmth of others from ever reaching her heart. 

The way his hands felt on her skin, from the very first moment he touched her, was comfortable and familiar. It was a coming home. There was never anything foreign about him, for her. She could never have guessed, until that very moment, how much she craved the miracle of touch. The warmth that bloomed to life under his elegant fingers, insistent, delicate, punishing, and gentle in turn. The hand that gripped her hair seemed to be anchoring her, and the one seeking entrance at the hem of her blouse was heaven sent.

She abandoned the idea of keeping a clear mind, along with her self-preservation and shame. She returned his kiss, relying on instinct alone to guide her through the motions, taking his lower lip hesitantly between her teeth. She reached for him blindly, feeling the muscles of his chest underneath her fingers, sliding up and up into his hair, holding on as if for dear life as she worked her mouth on his, trying to get closer, trying to get under his very skin.

She missed entirely the way his eyes flew open at her response.

He should have known she would be like this. He was always discovering new sides to her, new facets of her personality. Quiet and dangerously observant when she felt threatened, loud and adamant when she felt secure. Shy as an 18th century bride when taking his hand in public. And then this. He should have known there was a fiery passion hiding beneath her hesitant façade. Should have known there would be a fury begging for release.

Did she even really know what she was asking him for, with the desperate way she was kissing him? Her hands tugging at his hair in a way that was demanding and anything but gentle as she pushed her body against his as if she couldn’t bear an inch’s separation? Did she know what the release she was begging for entailed? He couldn’t be sure. This was the woman who did not know what a bus was, who needed to be told the difference between pounds and pence. But he hoped she knew. He didn’t have the patience to explain it to her.

He let her take the lead, curious to see where she would take them. Her eyes were pressed shut and he leaned into her kiss, returning her fervor with lazy kisses of his own as he leisurely slipped his hands under her blouse. Her raised hands clinging to his hair having conveniently lifted the hem to grant him easy access. He teasingly trailed his fingers along her waist, relishing the feeling of finally having her bare skin under his fingers. He splayed his fingers to feel more of her under his palms and journeyed upwards, exploring leisurely, not afraid of intimidating her, as she was clearly focused on kissing the life out of him.

He cracked open an eye and glanced at the woman pressed against him, wondering how best to get her out of that blouse. A button-down. There was nothing for it but to take back the control he had given her. Dragging his hands up her back, he took a firm hold of her raven hair, tearing out the pins and bands and whatever else it was holding the mass of ebony locks in place. He broke off the kiss to sigh appreciatively as the seemingly endless wave of inky black hair tumbled down her shoulders and she gasped for the air she hadn’t realized she had been missing.

“Easy there, Slayte,” he smirked, a teasing glint in his eye. She blushed, embarrassed, but not at all taken aback as she closed the distance again, eager to continue that fervent pace that had sent her pulse skyrocketing.

“Why the rush?” he whispered, using his grip on her hair to hold her in place. He hovered over her, his free hand snaking around her waist. “Going somewhere?” he asked, cocking a brow at her. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, “We have all the time in the world.”

He reclaimed her lips, slowly this time, holding her firmly against him as he directed them towards the bed behind her. She accepted the change of pace and sighed in satisfaction. A small squeak of surprise escaped her throat as her legs hit the bedframe and she tumbled backwards onto the soft mattress. Levi followed her down, holding himself over her with ease as he continued his ministrations without missing a beat, trailing kisses down the side of her face until he reached the pale, smooth flesh underneath her jaw. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, alternating between biting and sucking all the way down to her collarbone, smirking against her skin as she rewarded him with a helpless moan.

She gave herself up to his attentions, so taken up with the magic his lips were working on her throat that she didn’t even notice his steady fingers undoing her buttons in smooth succession until her blouse fell open, exposing her front to his clouded, grey eyes, unreadable to her. She self-consciously folded her hands over her chest but he tutted in response, pushing them up over her head and holding them there with his left hand as his gaze swept down the length of her, pausing on the swells and dips of her curves, as if committing them to memory. Her skin seemed to burn wherever his darkened eyes lingered and his right hand followed the path his gaze had burned on her, trailing down her collarbones, between her breasts and over the smooth skin of her stomach, leaving an impossible yearning behind wherever it passed.

She felt the blood rush to her face as she watched the lazy way his cool, grey eyes seemed to devour her. Squirming under the weight of his gaze, she struggled to free her hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice but of course, no sooner had she pulled against his grip than his grey eyes darted up to meet her amber ones.

“I though you weren’t going to change your mind?” he asked with a raised brow, ignorant of the husky tone of his own voice.

“I’m not,” she protested immediately, ignoring the effect those simple words were having on her, “I just… want my hands back.”

He waited a beat, contemplating before releasing her hands and tugging his own shirt over his head smoothly. He tossed it aside and met her eye.

“Better?” he asked, settling himself back over her.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, tentatively sweeping her fingers over his muscular chest, fascinated by the firm flesh beneath her fingertips.

“Let’s get you out of this,” he murmured, pulling her up to a sitting position as he smoothed the blouse off her shoulders, an appreciative smirk on his lips as he regarded the way the white blouse bunched at her elbows and around her waist, leaving her full, pale breasts bound in a black, lacy bra on proud display. He bent to kiss the flesh of her breasts, even as his fingers teased over her back, unhooking her bra with such skilled ease she felt a pang of jealousy, wondering where he had picked up that skill. When the black scrap of cloth fell away, her embarrassment resurfaced full force.

She didn’t know what to do with herself when Levi filled his palms with the swell of her breasts, squeezing appreciatively. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt an indescribable quickening in her core. His thumbs flicked over the nipples experimentally, his dark eyes fixed on her face to gauge her reaction. When a helpless cross between a mewl and a moan escaped her throat she wished the earth would swallow her whole. He only smirked to himself before lowering her back to the bed, massaging one breast with his hand while running his tongue over the pert nipple of the other. He enjoyed the way she shuddered at the unexpected contact and gently took the nub between his teeth, teasing her until her breath came in short gasps.

He pulled back, observing the way her eyes squeezed shut and she clenched at the sheets as if she were drowning. Not a bad reaction, he mused. He marked a trail of kisses down her abdomen as he undid the button and zipper of her jeans, pulling them off of her in one smooth movement that sent her eyes flying open with a sharp intake of breath. He paid her no heed, pushing her back down to the bed when she attempted to rise, and instead tearing the restricting clothing down the rest of the way off of her long legs, letting them fall to a crumpled heap on the floor. He undid his belt, watching, bemused, as she covered her face with her hands in shame. He discarded his trousers on the floor beside hers and crawled back over her, trailing lazy, leisurely kisses back up her body as he did so. By the time he came up to her face, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Oi.” He muttered, irritated that she was hiding her face, “Look at me.”

Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled her hands away. She looked up at him and was caught as helplessly in his steely grey eyes as a butterfly in a spider’s web. She wished he would stop looking at her that way, he had no idea how hard it was for her to breathe when those piercing, grey eyes were fixed on her so intently.

More to reassure her than anything, he kissed her gently again as he caressed her breasts, enjoying their weight in the palm of his hand. He kept his movements slow and measured, hoping to calm her down from her agitated state.

She felt alive under his hands. She cherished every inch of his skin that was in contact with her own. Her very being was buzzing with life and love such as she had never imagined possible. She felt emotion lodge in her throat as she returned his kiss passionately, nibbling delicately at his lip, sucking and biting in turn as she ran her hands over his shoulders, down the length of his back, wanting to feel every inch of him as if there would never be a second time.

If anyone asked her what it meant to be alive, she knew with no hesitation that Levi was the answer to that question. He was the one who had lifted her out of her dreary existence. Given her a place to call her own, an identity, a name - taught her to value herself. His existence was like a beacon of light to her, filling everything with purpose and meaning, and today as well, this experience they were sharing, was nothing short of miraculous. Every second they spent in the other’s embrace weighed more to her than a century in the underworld.

He broke away to catch his breath, a satisfied expression marking his features as he regarded her disheveled appearance. She averted her gaze, turning her face to the side.

“Hey,” he chided, annoyed at having to say this again, “Slayte.”

She bit her lip, looking determinedly off to the side.

“Slayte, look at me.” He repeated, wanting to see her dark eyes, unfocused behind the clouds of lust.

“I can’t.” she ground out, “I don’t… want you to see.”

He scoffed, lazily nipping at her throat again. “You know that you’re naked, right?”

He smirked at the violent shade of red that crept over her face at his blunt comment. “What could you be hiding from me that I haven’t already seen?”

Mortified, she turned to him and he stilled, catching sight of her eyes, brimming with tears, wavering with the force of the emotion that was consuming her. She looked up at him in helpless adoration, her dark eyes swamped with love. There was no other word for what was written there.

Levi knew love. He had seen it between parents and their children, as he watched them while growing up in the alleyways where he always seemed to be waiting for Kenny. He had thought there might be love in his mother’s arms but they had only proven to be cold and stiff with death. He had seen it between couples visiting his tea shop, clasping hands over the table as if they had something to prove. Love was in the confessions he received with a blank expression. Confessions that were, in due time, revoked without exception apologetically like cases of mistaken identity. Love was like the pearls at the bottom of the ocean and Levi was a hawk. They were two things that would simply never meet. Love was such a nice thing. And Levi was not allowed nice things.

So, why, then, was she looking up at him as if he were the sun itself? Why did her eyes swim with a sentiment that seemed to say she wanted to give him everything and more? Why was the expression such a selfless one, that asked for nothing in return?

“Slayte…” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t. Please. Just don’t say anything. It’s bad enough that you saw it.” She sucked in a shaky breath, furious with herself for ruining the mood. “I’m sorry.” She sighed, averting her gaze again.

She loved him. With all her heart and soul, for some inexplicable reason. She wasn’t just fond of him. She didn’t just like him. She loved him. Truly, deeply, with all the force of emotion that she carried with her in her ridiculously obsessive manner. He couldn’t return that emotion. He didn’t have it in him. Had nothing to draw from, to try and give it back to her. But what he could do, what he _would_ do… is cherish her, savor her, keep her by his side and protect her so ardently that she would never regret having given him her heart.

“Why would you want to hide that from me?” he murmured into her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth, sucking gently as he heard her breath hitch. He couldn’t give her love, but he could give her other things. He ran his hands down the length of her body, lingering where he had noticed she liked to be touched. Tracing patterns he followed with his tongue. Reveling in the shivers and moans she rewarded him with. He could give her everything else.

When his hand slipped past her abdomen, cupping her womanhood, she froze. Their eyes met, realizing that everything between them was about to change irreversibly. Or maybe it had already changed. Maybe there had never been any other course for them but this one. He slid his fingers down the length of her entrance, already dripping with moisture and met her eyes, hazy with lust. She whined, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing herself against his fingers, he languorously repeated the motion, slowly sliding deeper, watching her writhe under his fingers. He pressed a thumb against her clit, circling the sensitive nub once, twice, before pressing down on it again. The sound that escaped her throat was not quite a moan, not quite a cry. A strangled sob of pleasure. She fisted her hands into her disheveled hair, quite lost to the storm of pleasure he was awakening in her. He pressed a single finger slowly into her wet and throbbing core, careful not to hurt her, until he met resistance. She bit down on her hand, stifling her moan.

He frowned. Taking her hand out of her mouth, he intertwined their fingers, pinning her hand above her head with his left hand. He watched her face, mesmerized, as he pushed into her with his right hand again. The strangled cry that left her was like music to his ears.

“My name,” he murmured, his voice low as he pressed into her core again, “Say it.”

She had all but taken leave of her senses, “Levi, I – oh!” she gasped as a second finger joined the first. His thumb continued the lazy circles it was drawing around her clit as he maintained a steady pace, slowly picking up speed. “Levi, I!” but whatever she wanted to say was lost to another cry of pleasure and so it went, until he had her sobbing out his name.

When he felt the walls of her core throbbing and clenching around his fingers, his hand dripping wet in her moisture he hoped he had done enough to ensure that she wouldn’t suffer too much. He watched her starry eyes slowly focus, coming down from the ecstasy he had given her. He waited a few minutes, kissing her forehead gently, and then positioned himself at her entrance. Holding himself over her, he met her eyes and felt the need to warn her.

“This will hurt.” He provided honestly.

She only nodded in return, still lost on the haze of her climax, understanding and affection written in her eyes. “That’s okay.”

He pressed into her, shuddering in relief as he embedded himself into her warmth. He felt the resistance give, and his head shot up as he heard her gasp sharply. She was pale, and her eyes were squeezed shut. Despite his every instinct screaming at him to _move - t_ o finally take care of his own needs, he held still. Rubbing her shoulder gently, he waited for her to open her eyes again, “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned that he had hurt her this badly, despite his best efforts.

She blinked up at him, nodding, and rubbed her hands up and down his back reassuringly. “I’m fine, we can keep going.”

He tried to read the truth in her eyes, hesitant, even as he thrust slowly into her again. “Just…” she suggested, wincing, “slow?”

He nodded, not about to admit that the pace he was setting was already torturous for him. She adjusted quickly, however, and soon encouraged him with the pressure she applied through her grip on the back of his neck or the way she raked her nails up his back, lifting her hips to meet his, disjointedly at first, and then with an easy rhythm as if they had been together this way every day of their lives.

His lips parted in a soundless gasp as he climaxed, tearing out of her at the very last second as he spilled his seed onto the bedsheets, wincing at his own carelessness in allowing them to get soiled. He was too spent to care overly much and allowed himself to collapse on top of Slayte, his head resting on her chest, his ear pressed to her heartbeat as erratic as his own.

Minutes crept by as their breathing slowly turned regular and Slayte’s heart thumped out a soothing rhythm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew, something was filthy and needed to be cleaned but his exhaustion prevented him from pulling himself up. The way Slayte had her arms around him, drawing meaningless circles on his back and gently brushing his hair away from his face, didn’t make that any easier. He closed his eyes, certain he wouldn’t fall asleep in this position without cleaning up first, but he listened to the song of her heart and counted the circles she traced until doing just that.


End file.
